


Spellbound

by festivalofpudding (berreh)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Hand Jobs, Hypnotism, M/M, Vampire Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berreh/pseuds/festivalofpudding
Summary: A lonely guy named Link meets a very tall man with a very interesting ring.





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paintedsunsets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedsunsets/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> for [@scarystoriestotellintherhink](https://scarystoriestotellintherhink.tumblr.com/)'s Vampire Week, from prompts _hypnosis_ (@lindz04), _amethyst_ (@thegreyhenley),  & _stone_ (anon)

_Part 1:[Dizzy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JbO_q5Ij3iU)_

 

Link didn’t know why he kept coming to this place. He couldn’t remember the last time he scored here, and the music wasn’t even that good — he didn’t dance anyway, and they kept it so dark you couldn’t mingle without tripping over someone every other step. His night vision had really gone to shit since he stopped wearing contacts. At least the glasses made him look a little older; the pup chasers never bothered him anymore. …Unfortunately, neither did anyone else. Such was his lot in life: he was too young for the twinks and too old for the daddies, too hairy for the jocks and too skinny for the bears. Until they made a club for awkward nerdcore otters who wipe down booths with hand sanitizer before they sit, he would continue to spend his nights here, in his chosen corner, nursing mediocre beers and watching the world pass him by. He lined up the bottles (two empty, one nearly there) beneath the low-hanging booth lamp, examined them, then chose one and began carefully peeling the label with his thumbnail. He had it nearly half off when a soft voice made him jump.

“Hello.”

He looked up and saw no one — then, squinting into the darkness, he could just make out the shape of a very tall man leaning against the booth’s outer edge. A _very_ tall man. Wow. He looked about Link’s age, more or less, but also older — it was the beard, Link thought. He rarely saw guys with beards like that in this place. His hair was odd too: kind of swept up from his face in dark-blond waves that looked like they were just about to fall over but... didn’t. It gave him an old-fashioned look, like some guy in a frilly white shirt in a romance novel. Which would have made Link giggle if he wasn’t so busy staring at those eyes. They were... he was... wow. And now he was smiling — smiling at Link.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Link realized he was staring and winced. “Me? No.”

“Then...” He glanced at the empty side of the booth.

“Oh— yeah, go ahead. I’m alone. I mean, I’m not waiting for anyone.” Hot blood flushed Link’s face, and he fought the urge to scrape a nervous hand through his hair. He wasn’t _that_ out of practice, was he? This guy looked harmless enough — a little hipster douchey, maybe, but that was hard to avoid these days. If he turned creeper, Link knew how to make a swift exit.

He slipped into the booth with surprising grace for such a large man. His long legs disappeared beneath the table and his long arms folded on the chipped Formica. He smiled again, and Link gave him what he hoped was a smile in return. Damn, he was pretty. Those eyes... hazel? No, gray. Or blue? Who cares, they were gorgeous. In the light from the lamp they were dark and light at the same time, glittering beneath long lashes.

“My name’s Rhett.”

“I, uh... I’m Link.”

“That’s an unusual name.”

“Yeah, well, so is Rhett.”

He cringed, but Rhett laughed softly. “That’s true. That’s very true, Link.”

He was dressed pretty nondescriptly for this crowd: plain black Henley shirt, no visible piercings or ink, no jewelry besides a single ring on the third finger of his right hand. They were great hands, too — large and strong, but graceful, with long fingers and well-kept nails. He was probably an artist, Link thought. They were always a little weird. Honestly he looked like a mix between a Beat poet and a lumberjack. It was kind of unsettling, really. That ring should have been incongruously tacky, especially on him, but somehow it suited him — a little odd, a little old-fashioned, with a silver-colored band and a large, deep red-violet stone.

“—to drink?”

Link flinched. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted something else to drink.”

“Oh. No, I’m good. I’m still working on this one.” He swigged down a mouthful of tepid beer to moisten his dry throat, then coughed. “Sorry. I was just looking at your ring.”

He slid his hand forward so Link could get a better view. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Is that a ruby?”

“An amethyst. Red amethysts are rare, but they’re my favorite. This one is very old.”

“Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s really pretty.”

Rhett moved his hand a fraction, just enough to let the light play on the stone’s smooth surface. “I’ve rarely come across a stone like this. It’s different, isn’t it? It’s unique. Hard to describe, but still beautiful. Like you.”

Link’s eyes flitted up. “What?”

“You don’t really belong here, do you? But you keep coming back. Why?”

“How did you—”

“Night after night, you sit here alone. Why is that? Is it because you don’t know what you want? Or because you do?”

Link shook his head. “Look, dude, I don’t know who you are but I’m not—”

He tensed to rise, but that hand slipped around his wrist and he froze. There was no grip, no threat, only the soft weight of a cool, dry palm covering his clenched and sweaty fingers.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Link’s body relaxed on the bench. His heart pounded, but the urge to flee was gone. Except it wasn’t… but it was. What was happening?

“I’m not.”

Rhett moved his hand away and folded his hands on the table. He smiled again: a soft smile, reassuring, kind.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time. You don’t belong here any more than I do. Why would someone like you spend his nights alone? I think you’ve been waiting for something. Haven’t you?”

Those eyes were on him and he felt naked, exposed, as if the pool of light between them was a spotlight trained on him, catching him in the act. He glanced around until that ring caught his eye and he looked at it instead, grateful for something to focus on. Rhett had his hands folded so the ring was on top, turned toward Link, the strange reddish stone gleaming in the light.

“I was right,” Rhett said. “I thought you’d like this ring. It’s like you. It’s different, but it’s special. The way the light moves through it, makes the colors come alive... You see it, don’t you? You see how the colors move in the light. It’s so beautiful to watch.”

He was right — it was beautiful. If you looked you could see the colors almost moving, almost merging, like paint poured into water. It was like looking into a pool filled with something dark and deep and soft. You felt like you could just... fall in.

“You see it, don’t you, Link? Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes. You have very beautiful eyes, Link, did you know that?”

Link heard his own voice, barely a whisper: “...What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. You are. You’re the one looking at my ring. You’re the one who can’t take your eyes off it. The colors move differently for everyone. These colors are yours. They have always been yours. But you already know that, don’t you? You’ve been waiting for me almost as long as I’ve been waiting for you.”

Dizziness rolled over him in a thick wave: a wall of static, like lighting a joint after a year on the wagon, like instead of three beers he’d had three boilermakers and a Percocet. He put a hand on the table to stop himself from falling — falling forward, falling asleep, falling hard, falling.

“That’s it,” Rhett said. “Keep your eyes open, Link. Don’t let them close.”

His eyes instantly fell shut and he struggled to force them back open. He raised his head and Rhett was watching him, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He had small teeth, neat and small and bright, and they were… his teeth were… _what the…_ And then the lip slipped free, and a drop of saliva pearled on the soft dent where one point had been.

“Come with me,” he said.

He held out his hand, the hand with the ring, and before Link realized he was moving he had already taken it and Rhett was pulling him from the booth and lifting him to his feet.

The bar was so dark and Link was so dizzy that he would have fallen without the hand holding his, the arm looped about his waist, keeping him upright. He smelled so good, and Link leaned into him while his feet seemed to move of their own accord. The people around them blurred and faded and he closed his eyes, and then a door opened and cold air blew in his face and his eyes snapped open as everything came back into focus. They were in the alley behind the bar, and Link stopped in his tracks and suddenly drew back.

“What— Where—”

They were in a dirty back alley that smelled like piss and puke and he was not in control and this was not okay — panic scrabbled at the back of his throat and he flailed backward and tried to pry his hand from Rhett’s grip. Rhett took him by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall, looming over him while he struggled.

“Shhh…I’m not going to hurt you. Link, shhh. Look at me.”

He looked up into those eyes, and his struggles slowed and then stopped. In the dim neon glow they looked lighter, too light... but it wasn’t the neon, Link knew. This was Rhett’s eyes as they really were: pale and glittering, inhuman, two golden pools flecked with silver streaks. He shrank back against the wall, too terrified to move.

“What do you want?”

“I want you. I want _you_ , Link. I've waited a long time for you. Will you give me what I want?”

He pressed their bodies together until Link shivered and sighed. His knees buckled, but Rhett’s hands on his shoulders kept him from falling; the weight of Rhett’s body pinned him to the wall, and his dick stirred in his jeans despite his fear. Panic squeezed his lungs, but his arms slid around Rhett’s waist and pulled him closer. His head lolled back, too heavy to hold up anymore. Rhett bent his head to Link’s neck, his soft beard raising goose-flesh when his lips moved against the warm skin.

“Will you give me what I want?”

“Yes,” Link said, or maybe he only thought it.

Rhett’s hand moved down his body and slipped into his jeans. His fingers closed around Link and stroked once, from root to head and back again — he kissed Link’s throat and held him still as he writhed, as his hips rolled in time with Rhett’s grip. He was falling again and this time he gave himself over to it wholly and utterly. He closed his eyes and smiled, abandoning himself to what he was feeling, losing himself in it, losing control, losing coherency... all he could think was _yes_ , over and over, _yes, yes, yes. Yes_. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what had been waiting for him. This was what he wanted. This was where he belonged.

He felt two sharp points on his throat, cold breath, warm lips, wet tongue. Rhett stroked him again and then bit down savagely — high, sweet agony, sparking from his throat down his spine and straight to his dick in Rhett’s hand. His hips jerked and he came before he had time to moan, the orgasm to end all orgasms, merciless, obliterating, drawing a choked sound from him as he went boneless in Rhett’s grasp. Dimly he heard Rhett growling, mouth working against Link’s throat, something warm running down his chest, merging with the warm drops splattered across his belly. Rhett’s hand slid up his stomach, smearing, clutching, and his soft hungry growls were the last thing Link heard before everything went black.


End file.
